A Prank Too Many
by Beregond5
Summary: G1. Sideswipe is known for his pranks. However, Tracks also knows the meaning of: 'One good turn deserves another.'
1. Exasperation

Monday

Perceptor was busy, as usual. He was transformed and focusing on the examination of what looked like to be a piece of rock as a favour to Chip Chase. So far, he had discovered several interesting minerals on it, but he had yet to determine whether the rock was the broken piece of a meteor or part of a comet, or even…

"WAIT TILL I GET MY HANDS ON THAT SLAGGING SLAGGER!"

Perceptor got so frightened that he transformed to his robot form and ran for cover. But, a few moments later, he decided that _he _hadn't done anything wrong, so he could venture out of his lab to see what was going on without _much _risk on his life. Walking cautiously, he opened the door and dared a peek.

Ah. Why wasn't he surprised? He could see Tracks at the end of the corridor, looking to his left and right as though he was searching for something. But the thing that _was _quite odd was the Corvette's condition. In fact, his right hand was gripping his left forearm in an awkward manner as though he had hurt himself.

"Primus, Tracks!" Perceptor exclaimed and hurried at the warrior's side. "What happened?"

"This!" Tracks replied and brought his left arm up to Perceptor's optics, his right hand never letting go.

Perceptor looked at the arm curiously. He couldn't see any fluid or cracks. Then again, he couldn't get an exact visual confirmation either.

"Well… Maybe it would help if you removed the cloth?"

Tracks glared at his fellow Autobot. "Do you actually think I _can?_"

"Oh, I see." Deciding that he should get at the bottom of this, Perceptor transformed and examined the arm.

What he saw there not only surprised him, but puzzled him as well.

"Tracks… why is there adhesive on the cloth?"

"Guess," the Corvette said, his smooth voice now resembling a growl.

Now Perceptor was a Transformer who could reach to conclusions quite quickly. So, he was able to realise that it was 5 o'clock in the afternoon, precisely the time that Tracks usually waxed himself and…

Oh.

"Is that… your _wax _cloth?"

"Yes," Tracks said, grounding out the word.

"Oh, dear."

No wonder Sideswipe was so eager to drive Chip back to his home.

Tuesday

Tracks sat up from his recharging berth with a sigh and walked up to his mirror. Fortunately, Perceptor had been able to dissolve the glue on his arm, so Tracks could put the previous day's incident behind him.

That is, he _would_ after he found Sideswipe and pummelled him to unrecognisable scrapheap on the ground.

And then do the same to Sunstreaker for good measure – he was Sideswipe's _twin_ after all.

With that thought, Tracks looked up to the mirror to check himself.

He came face-plate to face-plate with an all-red Corvette.

Tracks let out a cry and got ready to defend himself… but then he realised that the red Corvette was _himself_.

And the red paint was still fresh on him.

"SIDESWIPE!"

Wednesday

"Just hang on, Tracks. I'll be there in five minutes," Inferno said and ended the transmission.

Tracks growled in dismay. He was sure the fire-truck said that _on purpose._

Yet there was nothing for it. With his laser gun out of reach and afraid to transform in his current state, all Tracks could do was wait for help to arrive with as much dignity as he had left in him.

And close his optics so as not to be reminded he was hanging upside down from a telephone cable.

It was official.

Next time Tracks wanted to see an antique car exhibition, he would make sure Sideswipe didn't know about it.

And second: he would _fly _there.

Thursday

Tracks stepped out of the washrack slowly, hands clenching into fists and his whole countenance screaming: "Out of my way or you're going to wish you were never created."

Bluestreak didn't quite catch that detail though.

"That's odd; you finished quickly today. Does that mean it's… my…" The gunner's voice trailed off, and he looked at Tracks from head to toe.

"Um… Why are you covered in oil?"

Tracks whipped a threatening finger at Bluestreak's direction.

"Don't. Just… don't."

And with that, Tracks kept walking to his dorms.

Friday

Nothing happened, because Tracks made sure he didn't get out of his dorms _once._

Saturday

Tracks sat on his berth, still refusing to get out of his dorms. He despised the indoors, but it was his best option under the circumstances. If anything, he could catch up with his reading.

It was then that he heard the familiar chime of his call button. With a kind of paranoia that would have made Red Alert proud, he held up his laser gun and walked cautiously up to the door. "Yes?"

"It's me, Jazz. Can I come in, man?"

Tracks stiffened. "Are you alone?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Never mind!" Tracks declared. In the next moment he opened the door, pulled Jazz inside, then closed the door again in one swift motion. Before Jazz could ask what was that about, Tracks had already circled the black and white Porsche, checking him from all sorts of angles.

"You're clean," Tracks said.

"Of course I'm clean, man!" Jazz said. "I just wanted to check up on you. Prime thinks you've been actin'… strange."

"Hm? What makes him say that?" Tracks asked, looking towards the ceiling at a very _suspicious_-looking hole.

"Nothin' in particular," Jazz replied with a sigh. He didn't have the spark to tell the Corvette that he was glaring at the ventilation system; so, he decided to sit down on a chair nearby. "Look, Tracks--"

"DON'T SIT!"

Jazz straightened at once, and waited till Tracks had examined the chair from underneath.

"Can I sit now?" he ventured to ask.

Tracks thought about it. "I suppose. But on the edge."

Jazz shook his head. "Whatever makes you happy, man." He sat down, looking at the almost insane Corvette with pity. "Look, I realise Sideswipe kinda overdid it with his pranks this week--"

"Kinda?! _Kinda?! _" Tracks was near to hysterics now. "How would you like it if you just took one blow after the other, knowing that next time things were only going to get even worse?! At least here I'm safe!"

Jazz lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. "Take it easy, man."

"Yeah, well, maybe I _would_ if Sideswipe had to go through the week _I _just had! But that son of a glitch doesn't even care! Honestly, Jazz, if I didn't know any better, I'd say he was a Decepticon _posing _as an Autobot."

"Come on, Tracks," Jazz said gently. "You know Sideswipe. Pullin' pranks is part of his nature. He doesn't mean any harm."

Tracks sighed. "Maybe. But I'm completely fed up." He sat cross-legged on the floor, elbow joints resting on his knees. "I wish that I could get the better of him for one day. Then things would be a lot more bearable."

Jazz thought about that statement for a moment. "One day only?"

Tracks nodded. "One day only."

That made Jazz grin. "How about a whole week?"

Tracks' optics widened. "How is that to be done?!"

"Oh, I have the perfect prank up my arm plating. Wanna know about it?"

"Please!"

"Okay, man," Jazz said. "But you gotta promise me two things, all right?"

"Anything!"

"Well, number one: You won't tell anybody I told you of this."

"I wasn't intending to."

"Just makin' sure. And two: this works only once, so you can't repeat it again. Is that understood?"

Tracks nodded.

"All right," Jazz said, rubbing his hands together. "Here's what you'll do…"

TBC…

_A/n: I apologise if some of the pranks sounded vague. Sideswipe and Jazz are the real prank experts, not me. ^_^;_


	2. Retribution

Sunday

That morning, everyone in the Ark was pleasantly surprised to see Tracks finally coming out of his quarters. After all, vanity aside, Tracks was still a part of the team and he was missed. So they greeted the blue Corvette and smiled at him – even exchanged some small talk with him. Some of them even wanted to be sure that Tracks was really okay, considering what he'd been through because of a particular red Lamborghini.

But Tracks only smiled back and even shared a joke or two, reassuring the other Autobots that the previous week was just a thing of the past and he'd preferred it if it stayed that way. In fact, he said Sideswipe must have run out of ideas for pranks by now and thus that would be that.

To Sideswipe's audio receptors, _that _was a challenge. And he was more than willing to accept it.

He grinned at the prospect that this week would be just as fun.

Monday

Tracks walked in the common room to get his daily ration of energon. But, though he found himself a vial, he quickly discovered there weren't any small energon cubes around to place the revitalising liquid in.

"I suppose I'll have to go to my dorms and fetch my own," the Corvette said, sighing.

Luckily for him, Sideswipe happened to be close by. He handed Tracks a small cube with a smile and a kind: "Here, you can have mine."

The other Autobots present – which consisted of Ironhide, Ratchet and Huffer – watched the scene with an impending sense of doom. All three were aware that, when Sideswipe was _that _nice, there was a very _bad_ reason behind it.

"Tracks is going to get it, I just know it," Huffer said, mumbling under his breath.

Sure enough, the moment that Tracks filled the energon cube, the liquid started leaking from several small holes at the brim and staining his chassis.

"I knew it," Huffer said.

"Sideswipe!" Ratchet said, standing up at once.

But Sideswipe was a clever enough Autobot and he didn't stick around any longer. He rushed out of the room to escape Tracks' wrath.

"That darn kid!" Ironhide said with a shake of his head. He walked up to Tracks with a piece of cloth. "Here you go, Tracks. You probably wanna clean yourself first before running after 'im."

"Ah, thanks Ironhide."

It was then that Ironhide, Ratchet and Huffer froze, looking at the Corvette with optics wide open, for they noticed something shocking. Tracks was smilingbroadly. Not only that, he even started to hum a soft, cheerful tune as he wiped the energon off him.

"Erm… Tracks?"

"Yes, Ratchet?" Tracks asked, looking up at the medic.

"Are you feeling well?" The red and white mech placed a hand on the Corvette's helm to detect any unusual heat.

Tracks laughed and pried himself away from Ratchet's touch. "I'm feeling perfectly fine; thank you for your concern. But," and at that he leaned toward the other three Autobots confidentially, "Sideswipe won't be by the end of the week."

"What do you mean?" Ironhide asked; but then realisation caught up with him. "You're planning on getting back on 'im!"

"Indeed," Tracks said. And with that, Tracks walked out of the door, looking very pleased with himself. All the other three Autobots could do was exchange a look amongst themselves and wonder what Tracks was up to.

----------------

Sideswipe was certainly surprised when Tracks didn't go after him, so he quickly retraced his steps to see what was wrong. Some part of him even hoped that the leaking energon hadn't done more damage to the Corvette than was intended. After all, no one was meant to be harmed by his pranks - just earn a few laughs and that was it.

But, when he reached around the corner and overheard the conversation between Tracks and the other Autobots, he grinned mischievously at the Corvette's naïve confidence.

_Let the games begin then, Tracks. I already know who's going to win. _

Tuesday

Tracks had been washing in the washrack with no care in the world, when he felt something strange crawling up his back. Not sure what it could be, he reached for it and caught it.

He never thought that that something would be big and wriggling and _ugly_.

---------------

Sideswipe stood by the entrance of the washracks, his grin only broadening as he thought of Tracks' reaction upon finding his fake mecha-spider. The mental image Sideswipe had created of Tracks bursting out of the door, jumping and spinning in an attempt to rid the fearsome monster that dared walk all over his precious chassis, was quite amusing for sure.

He certainly didn't expect the door to open quite slowly and Tracks to come out with a smile of his own. And when he caught sight of Sideswipe, he just walked calmly toward him, water still dripping from his crevices and seams, and held up the mecha-spider.

"I believe this is yours," he said sweetly, and he handed the toy back to Sideswipe. "Be careful where you leave it next time."

And then Tracks retreated back to the washracks to continue with his wash, chuckling as he did so.

Sideswipe didn't know what to make of that, truth be told. If he didn't know any better, he would say that Tracks was _expecting _that.

Unless…

Unless Tracks was chuckling because he had probably planned something _worse _for Sideswipe_._

Well. They'd see about _that_.

Wednesday

Tracks opened his cupboard to take out his bottle of wax and start shining himself. The moment he removed the bottle, however, he also revealed the cut off head of a quite deceased mech.

Tracks just picked it up, put a sticky note on its forehead, and then placed it back in the cupboard.

When Sideswipe went to see why Tracks wasn't screaming bloody murder by now, he opened the cupboard and read the note that was still stuck on the fake helm.

_Nice try._

Sideswipe didn't know what to make of that. However, one thing was sure.

Tracks had definitely planned something _worse_.

Thursday

By now, every Autobot in the Ark had found out about Tracks' plan of pulling the ultimate prank that would finally put Sideswipe in place, as well as Sideswipe's attempts to outsmart the Corvette. In fact, they had become so intrigued that they were all placing bets as to what kind of prank it would be and whenwould Tracks go for it. The only ones who didn't participate in that little activity were Optimus Prime, since he had to keep the image of an Autobot leader intact; Prowl, who had never liked this sort of games; Bluestreak, because Prowl didn't participate; Jazz; and, surprisingly enough, Smokescreen.

Then again, someone had to be bookie.

As for Sideswipe, he tried every prank in the book. From giving Tracks a jar of energon goodies - and a finger-trap among them - to using a life-like carton image of Spike and showing it to Tracks, claiming that the Corvette had stepped on the human. And when that didn't faze Tracks, he even tried little exploding boxes that resembled presents, just like he had seen in a cartoon show.

In spite of all that, Tracks always grinned knowingly and looked at him with an expressionthat said: "Enjoy your prankster days while they last."

And what was worse for Sideswipe was that the end of the week was fast approaching.

It was time to bring out the big guns – sort of speak.

Friday 

Sunstreaker was at his desk and idly sketching something on a piece of paper, when Sideswipe walked up to him.

"Can I use your carving knife for a while?"

Sunstreaker was certainly surprised at that question. "I suppose… Why do you want it?"

"Um… To carve?" Sideswipe said, stating the obvious.

Sunstreaker huffed. "Yes, but what?"

"This." And with that, he held up a large metallic round object that resembled a crude version of a pumpkin.

Sunstreaker locked his gaze on the metal… creation, and then on Sideswipe.

"Let me guess. It's for Tracks?"

"Yes."

"Fine," the yellow Lamborghini said with a shake of his head. "The carving knife is on the second drawer by my berth."

Sideswipe grinned. "Thanks, Bro."

"Yeah, sure," Sunstreaker said, resuming with his sketching. He didn't bother watching his brother go. In fact, he had become so engrossed in his drawing that he never realised the time passing by but only when he heard the chime of the call button.

Sunstreaker winced. If Sideswipe's plan had worked, it meant that _that _was Tracks, demanding his brother's head in a silver platter.

_Well_, the yellow Lamborghini thought, _he won't get it without a fight. _He stood up tensely and, after preparing himself for quite the physical confrontation, he opened the door.

He froze when he saw who it _really _was.

"Bro?"

But Sideswipe was keeping his head bowed and his shoulders slumped forward in utter defeat.

"Don't ask."

"That bad?" Sunstreaker asked.

"Damn it, Bro! What did I just say?!" Sideswipe exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. He stomped by his twin and lay down on his berth to sulk.

Yes, that was enough as answer to Sunstreaker.

Saturday

Tracks walked up to Sideswipe full of determination and said only two words close to the Lamborghini's audio receptors.

"My turn."

Sideswipe _ran_.

Sunday

Tracks was reclining on his berth, completely focused on his datapad which contained Stephen King's _Christine_, whenhe heard a chime. However, he didn't feel like getting up from his comfortable spot just yet. Not to mention that he was getting to a really good part in the book and he wanted to keep reading if he could help it.

"Enter, it's unlocked!" he said.

The door hissed open, so Tracks turned around to see who it was. He smirked to see the yellow Lamborghini standing by the threshold, both arms on his hips in a dismayed manner.

"I was expecting your brother," Tracks commented, then turned his gaze back to the datapad.

"That would be a bit difficult, considering Sideswipe refuses to come out of our dorms."

"Pity." Yet Tracks wasn't sorry in the least.

"In fact," Sunstreaker continued, "He keeps looking at the berth, in case you have hidden a time-bomb there. And after he makes sure there's nothing there, he stares at the ventilation system. He never sits down unless he makes absolutely sure the chair's not booby-trapped. And he always asks whoever presses the call button if they're alone."

"I was hoping he might," Tracks said, still reading. He grinned broadly in such a maniacal way that would have unnerved Megatron himself. "I guess it worked. Thank you for telling me, Sunstreaker."

Sunstreaker stared at the Corvette incredulously. "Worked? But… you didn't do anything!"

"Precisely." And with that, Tracks resumed with his reading, feeling relaxed and making a mental note to thank Jazz later for his excellent advice.

**The End**


End file.
